How Christopher Nolan weaponized Matt Damon’s persona for ‘The Odyssey’

Critics have been singing the praises of Christopher Nolan’s much-anticipated adaptation of The Odyssey, not only for its ambition but also for its astounding execution. The British American filmmaker looked to an ancient Greek epic to unfurl a joltingly sharp critique of contemporary American politics. And it turns out that casting Matt Damon in the lead role was Nolan’s secret weapon for this cutting commentary. 

Damon, who’d previously appeared in Nolan’s Oppenheimer and Interstellar, stars as Odysseus, a lauded hero of the Trojan War whose journey home is packed with peril. The Odyssey is the story of his quest to get home, but in Nolan’s hands, not one that regards him purely as a noble hero. So, why cast Matt Damon?

Let’s get into it. 

The Odyssey begins with Odysseus as a good man and a kind king. 

In a move sure to rile so-called Odyssey traditionalists, Nolan’s film starts with a bard (Travis Scott) theatrically singing an antiquated song of Odysseus. He uses heightened language to emphasize the extraordinary elements of the story, but he is cut off by Odysseus’ long-waiting wife Penelope (Anne Hathaway), who’s had enough of this telling. 

Notably, this mention of Odysseus is not his visual introduction to the film. Instead of a flashback to the Trojan War, we hear those who knew him personally speak of his worth, like the smarmy suitor Antinous (Robert Pattinson), who recounts Odysseus teaching the boys of his kingdom to hunt. Close-up shots of Odysseus’ strong arms prepping and plucking his bow reveal his physical might. However, Nolan still doesn’t show the face of his protagonist yet.

Damon’s face isn’t revealed until his loyal servant Eumaeus (John Leguizamo) tells Odysseus’ son Telemachus (Tom Holland) how the king saved the puppy Argos from being pitched off a cliff. Here, cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema tilts his camera up from the fluffy pup being held in strong hands to Damon’s face, which is licked by the grateful doggo. 

In screenwriting, this scene might be described as the “save the cat” moment, in which the film’s protagonist does something the audience likes, making us more inclined to root for him. That it’s literally saving a dog feels like Nolan’s version of a wry filmmaking joke. Beyond that, this scene introduces Odysseus not as an epic warrior but as a good man who taught the youth of his community and cared for a helpless animal. In that respect, of course you cast Matt Damon. 

Matt Damon is the modern American hero. 

Matt Damon is Odysseus and Zendaya is Athena in “The Odyssey.”
Credit: Melinda Sue Gordon / Universal Pictures

Yes, yes, this is a Greek story — one in which everyone speaks in American accents, in a modern dialect. Far from this being a decision to pander, Nolan’s translation uses elements of American culture (including our accent, diction, and most well-known actors) in his anti-colonizer critique. He does so by setting up The Odyssey like a traditional American action movie. 

It’s not enough that Odysseus is strong and brave. We also need to see his soft side. Like John McClane fights for his wife in Die Hard, Bryan Mills for his daughter in Taken, and John Wick for his puppy in John Wick, Odysseus has loved ones he cares for and will protect at all costs. 

And rather than choosing a gruff American action icon for this role, Nolan chose the ’90s star who changed the genre with The Bourne Identity. With his boyish charm, Damon brought a new kind of action hero to prominence, one who could be hard-hitting and wide-eyed all at once, shifting things away from the stoic James Bond model.

Many jokes have been made online about how between Saving Private Ryan, The Martian, and now The Odyssey, untold fortunes have gone into getting Matt Damon home. But even this recurring element in the actor’s filmography reflects how audiences see him, cling to him, and root for him. He’s our guy, a good guy, even when things get violent or bleak. Of course, Damon has occasionally subverted this expectation. Yet even in Martin Scorsese’s Boston mob thriller The Departed, where Damon plays a corrupt cop, his all-American good looks and winsome charm are used as a terrific façade for his character’s devious nature. 

Simply put, audiences love Matt Damon and expect to like him in movies. Nolan knows that. In an interview with Brut, he said, “He’s a movie star who is capable of bringing the audience with him into his way of seeing the world. And as a filmmaker that lets you to leave the character’s rough edges. It lets you have the character be more challenging. Because you’re confident that the audience trusts Matt. They go with him. So you can sort of use that, challenge that relationship with the audience a bit.”

Because he cast Damon as Odysseus, audiences will expect this translation of the character to reflect Damon’s usual niche of hard-hitting good guy. Flashbacks before Troy show this king of Ithaca hunting honorably, by plucking his bow as a warning to his prey. Besides cuddling a puppy, Odysseus is also seen canoodling with his wife, and having a tough conversation about what it means to go to war with Troy, for their family and their country. 

This is Damon in his comfort zone — or perhaps our comfort zone for him. But as the story shifts to Odysseus’ years-long journey home, red flags arise. 

The Odyssey reveals Odysseus is its anti-hero. 

Director Christopher Nolan on the set of his film “The Odyssey.”
Credit: Melinda Sue Gordon / Universal Pictures

Sailing home, Odysseus and his three ships stop at islands to refresh their provisions. But they are shocked when a humble village is abandoned as they approach. While the soldiers interrogate an old man, thatch roofs burn in the background. Nolan curiously skips over Odysseus’ men setting the blaze, but shows the results as Odysseus marvels that he and his men weren’t greeted as guests like Zeus’ law demands. But are they guests? 

Again and again, Odysseus and his men show up unannounced and armed to the teeth. Yet they are offended when they’re perceived as threats. They also have the attitude of colonizers, where everything is theirs for the taking. Perverting Zeus’ law to treat others as you would like to be treated, they expect others to treat them as they want to be treated, and respond with violence when those expectations aren’t met. 

Consider the cyclops (Bill Irwin). They show up on his island. They invade his home, which they recognize by pointing out the fire in the cave and the cheese hanging high on its walls. Without even waiting for the resident to return, Odysseus begins eating the cheese. (As a cheese lover, I may have gasped in alarm. That’s not your cheese, sir!) His men await for more sheep, presumably to slay them for their meat. But instead, they become a meal for the returning cyclops. 

Though in Homer’s Odyssey, Odysseus and the monster speak to each other, Nolan’s protagonist never even considers this creature so different-looking from him could possibly speak. His ignorant sense of superiority will cost him. He and his men defer to violence. Even when they are on the brink of escape, Odysseus fires on the already blinded cyclops again.

It’s cruelty, and it’s something that Circe (Samantha Morton) senses as soon as they roll up onto her island. When Eurylochus (Himesh Patel) intrudes on her and her cottage, she surrenders immediately, offering all of the soldiers soup. Of course, then she uses her magic to turn them into pigs, insisting to Odysseus this is who they really are — greedy pigs who take, take, take without mercy.

At this point, Odysseus begins to understand how he and his solders are perceived by those they accost. And while he’s able to cajole Circe into giving the men back their human forms, they will later be doomed by their sense of entitlement when they eat the cattle of Helios. 

The sack of Troy in Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey.”
Credit: Melinda Sue Gordon / Universal Pictures

Through Odysseus’ story, Nolan delivers an incisive critique of American exceptionalism. Wherever Odysseus and his soldiers go, they expect to be embraced as guests and liberators, even when their arrival is unwelcome, disruptive, and violent. They expect to be treated with honor and kindness, even if they don’t offer that in return. 

Finally, when Odysseus reflects on what happened at Troy, we see the truth of this war. A ten-year siege — which began for murky reasons — ends in senseless slaughter of women, including Cassandra (Zendaya). Where Odysseus brushes off most of the trauma he’s caused over his years away, her decapitation haunts Odysseus for years to come, as hers is the face he sees when he calls upon Athena. 

Here, in a grizzled gray beard and racked with remorse, Damon delivers the strongest leg of his performance. In these scenes, it’s not enough to be tough. He is weighed down not only by age and exhaustion, but also by the guilt for what hell his actions have wrought for others. He wears the rags as disguise, but also, arguably, to suffer under the same cruelty and disrespect that he has subjected others to.

Early on in the film, Damon embraces his standard persona, a winsome good guy who can be tough when toughness is required. Then, over the course of The Odyssey, we the audience are challenged to overlook our affection for Damon to see what sins his charisma is covering. 

This protagonist is no hero, but a thief, a liar, a colonizer, and a killer. If Nolan had cast an actor more known for playing villains, the third-act reveal of Odysseus’ trespasses wouldn’t be so disturbing. Casting might have telegraphed it. Instead, by choosing Damon, Nolan creates a brilliant bait and switch. We come in expecting another Hollywood movie in which a handsome American action star plays a good guy with a gun (or in this case, a bow and arrow), who knocks down all the foreign baddies to protect his home and family. Then, Nolan subverts this expectation, not only by chipping away at Odysseus’ reputation through revealing a critical perspective of his actions and so-called enemies, but also by grounding the audience in the chaos he has caused at home. 

His wife, loyal and strong, is preyed upon by gold-digging, power-hungry fools. His son is threatened by this lot, while his servant is beaten, and his dedicated dog is literally left on a pile of shit to die. And why? As Odysseus returns home, aged, battered, and dressed as a beggar, this is the question he and his audience is left to answer. What does it mean to have sacked Troy? What is the bloodspilling and the lost years worth? What does it really mean to be a hero? 

Through using Damon, a movie star audiences have happily related to for decades across genres, Nolan urges us not just to take in the shock and awe of Odysseus’ journey, but to reflect on how this translates to our lives right now. 

The Odyssey is now playing in theaters and IMAX.